Distance
by lastrequest
Summary: Carla/Peter - Peter finally realises he's in love with Carla...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: inspired by Christina Perri's song 'Distance' - I'd suggest listening to it before (or during) reading - as it's the song they dance to =) Also, this story assumes Michelle and Ciaron get married – (I'm not sure I believe they will, but it's a useful explanation for Carla / Peter dancing).

Hope you enjoy! And please leave a review if you have the time, thanks!

x

**Distance**

_~ I will make sure, to keep my distance_

_Say I love you, when you're not listening_

_How long, can we keep this up? ~_

_x  
><em>

Carla watched Michelle and Ciaron mingling with all the guests. They looked so happy together. She smiled sadly, lowering her gaze to the barely touched food on her plate. She still didn't have much of an appetite since everything that had gone on with Frank over the past few months.

Peter was sat a few tables way with Leanne and all his family.

_She_ was sat with some of the factory lot, her few remaining friends. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at how little of her family she had left.

"How about a dance, Mrs Connor?"

She snapped out of her reverie, offering Sean a smile. He'd surprised her with how supportive and loyal he'd been, he'd really been a good friend through everything.

"I don't know that I'm much up to dancing."

"Oh… come on! It'll cheer you up. And _me_ too. Marcus _never_ wants to have a dance."

"Just not slow ones." Marcus put in with a tease to his tone.

"Not _any_." Sean quipped.

"Go on Mrs Connor," Julie encouraged, "show off your new dress."

"I take it that's a hint," Brian grinned, standing up and offering Julie his hand. "A dance, my lady?"

She blushed and giggled.

"I thought you'd never ask,"

.

Peter glanced across to Carla's table again. Julie and Brian were heading off to dance, and after a moment he saw Carla smiling and accepting Sean's offered hand.

"Oh, for God's sake."

He looked back at Leanne, thinking for a moment he'd been caught staring.

"What's up?"

She sighed melodramatically.

"Oh… nothing really. Just… Janice. I need to make a phone call."

"Okay,"

She pecked him on the cheek as she passed him and headed outside where it was quieter.

He glanced across at Simon who was absorbed in whatever game Deirdre and Ken were playing with him, so he let his attention fall back on Carla who was still dancing with Sean.

She at least looked a little brighter as he twirled her and they chatted away.

Still, he found since her ordeal with Frank, he seemed to get agitated when anyone even _looked_ at her, let alone touched her. Even _Sean_, who he knew couldn't harm a fly.

He was jealous of _Sean_ dancing with her.

It was pretty pathetic.

The song was nearing an end, and as Leanne still wasn't back and Simon was preoccupied, he decided he could go and say hello to Carla… at least.

.

Sean felt someone tap him on the shoulder as the song ended.

"Mind if I steal her for the next one?" he asked casually.

"Oh- sure."

Carla looked a little awkward.

"Thank you for the dance, Sean," she smiled, giving his hand a squeeze as he left, the next song starting to play.

Peter tugged her closer, and she slipped her hand into his, moving the other to his shoulder. She swayed slowly with him, relaxing into his hold.

_The sun is filling up the room_

_And I can hear you dreaming_

_Do you feel the way I do?_

"Are you allowed to be dancing with me?"

"I'll dance with whomever I like,"

His hand slid further around her waist, pulling her body plush to his as he continued to lead her in their dance.

She turned her face to allow for the closer hold, their cheeks almost touching.

"I'm sorry,"

"Don't be," he felt her relax slightly. "You look beautiful. I'm making every man in the room jealous right now, you know."

She let out a huff of amusement.

"I'm never letting another man near me again."

Her tone was light, but the underlying emotion was quite apparent.

"Does that include me?" His question fluttered across her shoulder as he turned his face slightly to hers.

"Except you." She whispered. "And, maybe Sean."

He chuckled in response, his other hand shifting to interlock their fingers. Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn't pull away. His were the only arms she truly felt safe in anymore.

_Please don't stand so close to me_

_I'm having trouble breathing_

_I'm afraid of what you'll see_

He'd moved her further into the crowd of couples dancing, and she wondered if it was intentional, protecting them from prying eyes.

They hadn't gone unnoticed though. Sean had started watching them the moment he got back to his seat, a curious smile playing across his features.

"What do you think of that?"

"What?" Marcus looked up from his food.

"_That_." Sean inclined his head in Carla and Peter's general direction.

"_Ohhh_…"

_I will make sure, to keep my distance_

_Say I love you when you're not listening_

_And how long, can we keep this up…_

"Mmmm. Looks to me like a little more than a _friendly_ dance."

Marcus studied them for a moment, noticing Peter's hold on Carla; delicate and tender and a little too intimate for a married man to be holding another woman. Friendly dance or not.

"It's nothing."

"What's nothing? What have I missed?" Julie plonked herself down beside them with a big grin on her face and a fresh drink in her hand.

"Where's Brian?" Marcus not so subtly changed the subject.

"He's in the little boy's room. Aww, look at Mrs Connor and Peter. They do look lovely together, don't you think? Who knew Peter Barlow could dance?"

Sean and Marcus exchanged a look.

"What?" She asked, none the wiser.

Marcus shrugged awkwardly, watching them again as they swayed, seeming to fit perfectly with each other like they'd danced together a thousand times before.

_I'll make sure, to keep my distance_

"Well, he obviously likes her. I wonder if she realises."

"I don't think it's our place to speculate."

.

Oblivious to everyone else in the room, they continued to dance, his hand at her waist gently stroking her through the material of her dress. He turned his face slightly more, breathing her in with a contented sigh.

How could he have been such a fool? He'd fallen for her; a long time ago, if he was honest. Holding her for these few moments had felt like perfection. She seemed to sense his revelation, turning her face ever so slightly more towards his, his breath dancing across her lips as he considered confessing without using words.

_How long, till we call this love?_

"Mind if I cut in?"

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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! Here's the second chapter =)

x

Leanne's tone was bitter, quickly breaking them from their daze. Carla pulled away from him, feeling suddenly very vulnerable. She didn't look at either of them as she left, instead making a beeline for the bar.

Her heart was racing, her thoughts swirling in her mind. He didn't want her... He'd made it clear more than once… So why had it suddenly felt like her feelings were reciprocated?

Leanne took her place in Peter's arms, pressing a kiss to his mouth and smiling sweetly like she'd just marked her territory. He forced a smile, despite feeling an indescribable ache at the loss of Carla, desperate to have her back in his arms instead.

A new song came on, but he couldn't have felt less inspired.

"You sort things with Janice?"

"Yep." She kissed him again, hoping Carla was watching. "You know, we could have an early night? I'm sure they won't mind having Simon." She glanced at Ken and Deirdre, and then smiled back up at Peter.

But he was struggling to stay focused on her.

"Peter?"

"We- we can't leave yet. It'd be a bit rude."

His eyes flickered to Carla seemingly of their own volition.

"Do you think you could stop gazing at her for two sodding minutes?"

She stopped dancing, glaring at him as she waited for his excuses.

"I'm not… _gazing_. I'm just worried about her."

"You've been watching her all evening, I'm not blind, Peter."

"I'm just keeping an eye on her."

"I thought we agreed to leave her to the professionals? She's a pathetic drunk."

Her comment hit a nerve.

"In case you've forgotten, so was _I_, not so long ago. You didn't turn your back on _me_."

She scoffed.

"Because I love you."

When he looked awkward, her eyes widened.

"I'm an idiot," she let out a despairing laugh, "You actually _love_ her, don't you?"

She'd been kidding herself for months, her memory flashing back to that night Carla had tried to kill herself; and the way he'd cradled her in his arms and softly pleaded for her to stay.

"As- as a friend, yes." He fidgeted. "You're being paranoid."

"Oh, am I?"

At her raised voice a few nearby dancers looked across.

"I'm not arguing with you about this again. I'm not ruining Michelle and Ciaran's day."

"No, you're not, _she_ is." She snapped, walking back to their table in a huff.

Peter's gaze was drawn yet again to Carla, paying for a bottle of wine. He glanced back towards Leanne, debating whether or not he should placate her.

Before he could give it anymore consideration though, his decision was made as he watched Carla put her jacket on and head for the exit.

He sighed with frustration, going to grab his own jacket from his table.

"Where are you going?"

"Helping my _friend_."

"Peter, if you run after her I'll-"

"You'll what?" he snapped back. "I'm done with this, Lea. I'm done."

He shot off, leaving Leanne gobsmacked.

.

"Carla?"

She tried her best to ignore him, picking up her pace as she headed to the cab office, only to find a '_back __in __five_' note stuck to the door. She groaned quietly to herself, deciding she'd walk home rather than waiting.

"Carla, wait up,"

She gripped the bottle more firmly, feeling the tension rising as he caught up to her.

"Go away, Peter. I'm fine."

"I beg to differ."

"Go back to the party."

"I don't wanna go back to the party." He argued. "Where are you going?"

"Home." She answered simply, still not slowing down for him.

"To do what? Drink yourself into a stupor?"

"It's _one_ bottle of wine, Peter, not a keg-load."

"Will you- will you just slow down?"

She smirked, turning round to face him.

"What's wrong? Can't you keep up with me?"

"No,"

"And _you__'__re_ not even in four inch heels," she teased.

He could see through it though, her playful tone. She wanted him to think she was fine, to leave her to drown her sorrows. But she should know by now he wasn't so easy to deter.

"True." He smiled. "But if you're insisting on walking home, then I'm insisting on walking with you."

She considered for the first time it wasn't the wisest thing to do, walking home alone in the dark. So she acquiesced, slowing her pace a little so he could walk comfortably beside her.

But she didn't have to talk to him.

He allowed the silence, just grateful she'd agreed he could walk with her.

.

When they got there, she rooted in her bag for her keys, and he took the opportunity.

"This isn't the answer you know," he grabbed for the wine, earning himself a glare.

But she didn't have the strength to argue. It was taking all her strength not to break down into tears on him.

"Fine, keep it. Thanks for walking me home."

She stepped inside and he reached for her arm to pull her back. She panicked at the sudden contact.

"I'm sorry," he quickly released her, noting how fragile she was despite the decent façade she'd kept up all day. "I know you've got a bottle or two inside. I'm not stupid. I know all the tricks."

"Then you know that when I say I need a drink, I really _really_ need a drink."

"You _want _one. You don't _need_ one."

She hesitated, and he knew he was getting through at least a little.

"What do you know about what I need?"

Her eyes met his, her underlying meaning obvious.

"Let me in, and you can tell me."

She faltered, heading upstairs. He took the open door as his permission and followed her inside.

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	3. Chapter 3

She dropped her keys on the counter, and slipped her shoes off. Peter moved into the kitchen area to find a corkscrew, undoing the wine then moving to pour the contents down the sink.

"Waste of half decent wine, that."

"Not a waste if it stops you drinking it."

"Debatable." She replied, casually moving over to the cupboard and pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

Peter sighed as he noticed what she was doing.

"Carla-"

"What?" she unscrewed the cap.

"Don't."

"I told you I needed a drink, and I'm having one."

"I really wish you wouldn't."

"Why?" she took a defiant sip.

"I care about you, and this," he gestured towards the bottle, "you're just hurting yourself."

"Yeah, well, I never asked you to care."

She took a larger mouthful, the tension between them increasing.

"Fine. Go ahead. Drink. But if you're giving in then sod it, so will I. Where else have you got bottles hidden, hm?"

His sudden anger caught her off guard.

"Peter-"

"No I- I'm serious. You wanna say to hell with it all, then I'll join you."

"Don't be ridiculous," she worried, watching him push a hand down the side of her couch and then between the middle cushions.

He laughed victoriously.

"Aha! Bit predictable though don't you think?" He teased, then pulled the vodka bottle out, unscrewing the lid and holding it up as though toasting her.

"Alright! I won't drink, okay?" she slammed the whiskey bottle down on the counter, looking utterly defeated. "You happy, now?"

"Yes. Now I'm happy."

She met his gaze when she heard his voice waver, and noticed tears welling up in his eyes. He looked down at the vodka bottle, putting the cap back on and setting it on the coffee table as he tried to regain his composure.

She moved over to him.

"If you're happy, then why do you look like you're about to cry?" she asked softly.

"Because I care," he replied, still avoiding her gaze.

"People care about the- the rising price of _fuel_, but they don't _cry_ over it."

"Some people do."

"Peter..." she stepped even closer. She wanted to reach to him and comfort him, but wasn't certain he'd allow her. "Why are you so upset?"

He took a breath, and looked up at her. She looked so bewildered it was almost adorable. She didn't have a clue. He didn't suppose he could blame her. He'd lied so many times about his feelings, he'd almost convinced _himself_. But he wasn't going to lie any longer.

"Because I _love_ you."

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to respond but his confession left her temporarily speechless.

He lifted his hands to her face and leant in, pressing a ghost of a kiss to her lips. She let out a soft whimper and pushed his hands away, taking a step back and shaking her head with confusion.

"You _don__'__t_ love me."

His heart leapt at the intensity of her gaze. He'd finally told her the truth but she still believed otherwise. It was his own fault, he'd rejected her often enough.

"I _do_," he assured her, taking her hands and gently tugging her back to him. "God knows I tried hard enough not to but-"

"You really know how to flatter a girl." She chuckled.

"But it's impossible," he continued, ignoring her temporary deflection. "I've fallen so hard for you it- it's _dizzying_. It's _all-consuming_. You're all I think about, Carla," he lifted his hands to her face again, gently stroking her cheeks with his thumbs and seeing her lips part in anticipation. "I'm sorry it took me so damn long to realise it, but I love you. _So_ much…"

He kissed her tentatively, and this time she kissed him back.

But he'd denied himself the taste of her for so long, that when she pressed herself closer to him and lifted her arms around his neck, his kisses become needy and devouring.

She gasped as his mouth moved to her neck, and one of his hands weaved into her hair.

"Peter…" she whispered breathlessly, tensing up slightly.

"Let me love you," he whispered in response, softening his hold on her and moving his mouth back to hers for a gentler kiss. She relaxed again, but he couldn't help but get caught up in her. Kissing her was quickly becoming his new addiction.

His hands started to wander, and when one slid up under her dress a stab of fear overwhelmed her as it sparked a flashback of Frank…

_on top of her…_

_forcing her thighs apart…_

"No-" she whimpered, starting to panic.

He released her immediately, feeling his heart breaking at the sight of her trembling form.

"I'm so sorry," he backed away, cursing himself for being so foolish as to think she was ready for something more.

"I just-"

"I'd _never_ hurt you, I swear to you,"

"I- I know," her voice was shaky, her breathing erratic as she fought against the urge to flee. "I just… _can__'__t_…" she released a sob, her hands shooting up to cover her mouth in an attempt to stop anymore escaping.

"It's alright, it's okay," he tried to reassure her, not quite sure what to do, but desperate to make things right. "Do you want me to go?"

She lifted her gaze back to his, seeing he was distraught with guilt; but she didn't want for him to leave.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, taking a step towards him.

His expression softened.

"Hey, no, you- you have _nothing_ to be sorry for,"

"All you were doing is kissing me and I totally freaked out."

"My hand was half way up your dress, of course you freaked out."

"I'm pathetic,"

"No, you're not." He said firmly. "I was rushing you."

"But I _know_ you'd never hurt me. I _know_ you'd never do to me what... _he_ did."

"It's okay," he reassured her. "Come on, come here,"

She hesitated for only a moment longer, then sank into his embrace.

"Please don't leave," she cried.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I promise."

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A/N: As always, thanks muchly for reading/reviewing =)


	4. Chapter 4

He'd encouraged her onto the couch, and she'd snuggled against him as he soothed her with soft caresses. Words hadn't been needed to calm her nerves and silence her tears; all she'd needed was the safety of his arms.

But when he realised she was okay he'd been reluctant to let her go, and she'd been equally as reluctant to move away from his cocooning warmth. So they'd sat like that, quietly, for over an hour. He couldn't be sure, but she seemed to have fallen asleep.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he sighed as he pulled it out, anxious about waking her.

_Si's at your dad's. Bothering to come home?_

He frowned, unaware Carla's eyes had opened and she'd seen Leanne's text too. She felt a sickness in her gut, and a debilitating fear that he was going to leave her. A fear he'd change his mind; that if he couldn't have her properly maybe he wouldn't want her at all. She closed her eyes sadly, praying he would stay as she hovered on the edge of sleep again.

Her fears were for nothing. He turned his phone off, putting it back in his pocket and returning his hand to hers.

.

He held her a while longer, not wanting to disturb her but realising they weren't in the most comfortable position to sleep all night. So he shifted carefully, slipping his arm under her legs and gently lifting her up.

She seemed fragile and weightless in his hold. She was a slip of a thing anyway, but there was no doubting she hadn't been eating properly since her ordeal. It only made him more certain of his love for her, of his desire to help her get better and chase away all her demons. He didn't want to be a phone call away when she needed him; he wanted to already be here with her.

He wanted to be her one constant.

He nudged her bedroom door open, not bothering about the light; there was enough filtering in from the lounge for him to see inside. The room was immaculate, as he'd expected.

He settled her in bed, covering her over and just sitting on the edge beside her for a moment. He stroked her hair back from her face, and she turned into his touch.

"Peter?" she mumbled, seeking him out even in her half-sleep.

"It's okay, I'm here," he whispered, taking hold of her hand. "Go back to sleep, you're safe."

"Stay?"

He hesitated, her single word request tinged with an almost unparalleled vulnerability. He had intended to sleep on the couch, but there was no way he could bring himself to leave her now.

"Okay," he replied, kicking his shoes off and moving around the other side of the bed.

He debated lying on top of the covers beside her, but it wasn't like he was undressed, so instead decided to get in. She curled instinctively into his side, her features relaxing as she fell swiftly back to sleep.

.

When she woke the next morning she was alone. She felt her heart sink, rolling onto his side of the bed and pressing her face into his pillow.

She let herself wallow for a moment, then it occurred to her he may just be in the next room. So she pulled herself up, running her hands back through her hair in an attempt to look half alive, and straightening out her dress. She moved to the door, her hand hovering on the handle for a moment. She took a breath, then pushed it open.

He wasn't there.

She closed her eyes, sighing sadly at the realisation that he _had_ left. She'd genuinely thought something had shifted between them, but his absence made her once again doubt his feelings for her, and made her worry her inability to be sexually intimate had put him off.

She padded into the kitchen feeling sorry for herself, but her lips quirked into a small smile when she saw a row of empty bottles on the counter. He'd obviously emptied all her supplies before he went. She hadn't really realised just how many she'd had hidden around the flat till faced with them.

Still, it was the weekend and the thought of having nothing in, left her feeling a little bereft. She supposed she should get a shower and get dressed, then she could restock.

.

Peter struggled up the stairs with several bags of shopping, fiddling with the keys as he let himself back into Carla's flat.

He put the bags on the counter, hearing the shower turn off and turning around to see Carla emerge from the bathroom in only a towel.

She startled at the sight of him.

"Peter?"

"Sorry,"

"I thought you'd gone home," she clutched the towel to her chest, and he couldn't help but notice the difference between now and the last time he'd seen her in such a state of undress. Gone was the seductive, daring look she'd shot him all those months ago, instead replaced with an awkward shyness, an uncertainty in herself he thought he might never be able to get used to, and an inability to focus on him properly at all.

He couldn't help but admire her but he knew she must be feeling uncomfortable, so he turned his attention back to the bags and started to unpack.

"You had nothing in. I didn't wanna wake you. I thought I could make you breakfast in bed." He glanced back at her, his eyes dropping to her legs and noticing her shift anxiously under his gaze. He forced himself to look back up at her face and gave her a shy smile. "I did leave a note."

"Did you?"

He reached to the kettle, holding up the scrap of paper he'd left just beside it.

"Thought you'd be sure to see it here."

"Oh," she stuttered. She'd initially felt very vulnerable that he should have caught her in her towel, but there was no denying the flutter she'd felt in her stomach at his obvious attraction. She'd spent so long feeling like Frank had permanently ruined her, like no-one could ever possibly want her again, that a small part of her appreciated Peter's attention. She could also see he was making a conscious effort not to stare, constantly averting his gaze, and that was kind of cute. "I uh, I'll go get dressed."

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A/N: Thanks muchly for reading/reviewing =)


	5. Chapter 5

He set her breakfast down on the table just as she reappeared from the bedroom.

"Good timing." He smiled, sitting down and gesturing for her to do the same.

She smiled in return, sitting down and eyeing the full English, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble,"

"I like cooking. Honestly. I don't usually get much time for it…" he trailed off, not wanting to bring Leanne into the conversation. "If you're over-faced I'll polish off the scraps."

She chuckled, picking up her knife and fork and actually feeling hungry for once.

.

After a few moments she got the distinct impression he was watching her, holding the mouthful of food on her fork mid-air as she glanced up at him. He had a rather wistful expression, and surprisingly didn't seem to mind that he'd been caught.

"You're staring,"

"Yeah, I am." He replied teasingly, as though asking what she was going to do about it.

"Well… don't."

She blushed. Carla Connor, _blushing_. How old was she? She cursed herself inwardly, taking her mouthful and knowing he was still openly staring at her.

He was pretty certain he could sit and watch her all day and not get bored, but he didn't suppose she'd allow it.

"You slept well."

"Yeah. For once."

"I hope it wasn't too presumptuous of me… joining you."

She shook her head, smiling slightly as she thought about snuggling up against him.

"No." She glanced up at him, then across to the counter where the empty bottles were still lined up. "But it _was_ presumptuous of you to think emptying my supplies would stop me drinking."

"Well, see, I was going to make a suggestion about that."

"Oh?"

He eyed her a little nervously.

"Instead of reaching for the bottle… just… reach for _me_. And you know, I don't come with a hangover or memory loss."

"You make a good cushion too," she smiled.

"There is that. Can't hug a bottle. Although, that said, I think we've both been there."

She smiled again; seemed like she couldn't seem to stop this morning. They held each others gaze for a moment longer than necessary, then he tilted his head slightly as a thought hit him.

He got up from the table and disappeared into her bedroom, and she found herself missing his company immediately. But he wasn't gone for long, reappearing with her hair brush and moving round behind her to comb through her tangled hair.

She knew what he was doing, helping her get used to the contact. But it felt so incredibly intimate that he should want to comb her hair. She almost felt stupid for appreciating the gesture so much; but then everything with Peter was different. It had been like that from the get go. He showed her a respect and tenderness she wasn't used to, but had always yearned.

"I'm sorry about last night." His fingertips gently moved her hair back from her face. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. I never meant to remind you…" he stopped himself saying Frank's name. He didn't need to say it anyway, she knew what he was on about.

"I think I just… need a little more time. I'd understand if you didn't want to wait,"

The brush stilled and he moved around to sit beside her.

"You think that's all I'm interested in? This is about way more than sex, Carla." He reached for her hand. "As long as it takes, okay?"

She nodded, feeling a little more at ease.

"Okay."

.

She'd made a good effort to finish off her breakfast, then headed into her bedroom to finish drying off her hair. Peter cleared up the pots, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He needed to sort things with Leanne, he couldn't keep avoiding the situation no matter how much easier it might be. He twirled it round in his hand, delaying it just a little longer.

Carla reappeared, seeing him staring down at his phone and wondering if he'd had another text.

"Have you heard from Leanne?"

He looked up with a troubled expression.

"I've not even turned it back on yet." He shrugged awkwardly. "I'm gonna ask dad if he can keep Simon for a few days while I get everything sorted out."

"Probably for the best."

She moved closer, taking his phone and switching it on for him before passing it back with a shy smile.

He kissed her chastely in thanks, then dialled his dad's number.

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A/N: Sorry it's a little shorter than usual. Off to visit family for the weekend but wanted to give you all something to tide you over till I'm back :D Thanks for reading/reviewing =)


	6. Chapter 6

This was his second cigarette. He wasn't usually one to chain smoke, but somehow it felt less suspicious then pacing outside his front door. He'd been there a good ten minutes already. He knew it was stupid, dragging it out, but he couldn't help the hesitation and anxiety about talking to Leanne.

A part of him hoped she'd already left him. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms the last time he'd seen her.

He stubbed his cigarette out on the wall, dropping it carelessly to the floor and finally sliding the key into the lock. He headed upstairs to find her sat on the couch, with a face like thunder.

"Finally bothered to come home then?"

He looked at the floor, feeling like a child being reprimanded by his mother. He didn't like confrontation, despite what some people might think. It was perhaps one of the reasons he turned to booze, one of the reasons he fled at the most inopportune of times - but not anymore. This had to be sorted.

"Si's staying at dads for the weekend. We need to talk."

"You stayed at _hers_ last night, didn't you?"

"She's my friend,"

"Did you sleep with her?"

He looked awkward, but kept his voice calm.

"No. No I didn't."

She laughed then.

"My God, she turned you down, didn't she? Poor Peter. Must be feeling _very_ sorry for yourself now."

He winced at her bitter tone.

"It wasn't like that,"

"You're not denying you tried then?"

"What?" He felt his anger building. "Leanne-"

"Well, at least _she__'__s_ seen sense, even if _you_ haven't. Maybe we can get past this now?"

"No. No we can't." His calm tone had officially abandoned him. "This isn't about Carla, okay? This is about me and you and the fact that this- _this_ isn't working. It hasn't worked for a long time. It hasn't felt right since-"

He stopped himself short, but saw the realisation on her face.

"Go on, say it." her voice wavered. "Since _Nick_?"

He hesitated, struggling to see the distress on her face. He'd never wanted to hurt her, he didn't want to be cruel about it but there was just no avoiding some things – her affair with Nick being one of them. Her infidelity had tormented him for months, yet somehow she was making him feel like _he_ was the one in the wrong.

"Even without Nick in the equation… it's too hard, Lea."

Their marriage was over and it was kinder to end it now rather that pretend any longer.

"Marriage isn't _easy_ Peter. Look at your dad and Deirdre-"

"I know it isn't easy but it shouldn't be _this_ hard. I just… I think it'd be best for us both if we called it a day."

"And what about Simon?"

"I can't stay with you just for his sake." For once she didn't have a quick comeback. "You- you can stay here as long as you need-"

"Well, how hospitable of you," she glared at him.

"I'm not gonna chuck you out on the street right before Christmas, am I." he reasoned. "I just- I _can__'__t_ do this anymore, Lea. I'm sorry. I wanna split up."

She didn't respond. She didn't know what else she could say, he seemed pretty adamant their relationship wasn't worth fighting for.

So she did what she always resented him for doing when they were having a problem, she grabbed her coat and bolted.

Peter dropped down to the couch, his head in his hands as he let out a long sigh. The hardest part was going to be telling Simon. What was he going to say to him? What reason was he going to give for why he and Leanne were finished?

.

Leanne entered the pub close to tears, and Stella quickly opened her arms to her.

"Love? Whatever's the matter?"

"It's- Peter…" she held back, not wanting everyone to hear what had happened, especially as she already had Norris's undivided attention.

"Come on, come through." She led her through to the back room, sitting down with her and sliding a box of tissues across. "Has he been drinking again?"

Leanne shook her head.

"He said it's over. That's it. Finished. He doesn't want to be with me anymore and it- it's because of Carla."

"_Carla_? Did he say that?"

"Well- no," she sniffed sadly. "But it's _her_, I know it is."

.

Peter grabbed his keys and headed outside, getting in the car and driving almost on autopilot to Carla's.

He knew she'd be home. He'd considered calling her first, and maybe it was paranoia but he'd suddenly worried about the rape trial. He'd worried Frank might get his phone records checked, and a call to Carla so soon after finishing his marriage would do her no favours.

.

The buzzer sounded, and Carla dropped her glass to the floor. She let out a curse. Every little noise still seemed to make her startle, it felt almost reflexive these days and she wondered if she'd ever lose it; ever get back to normal.

She stepped around the glass and headed over to the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me,"

The sound of his voice was instantly comforting.

"Come on up."

She opened her door, lingering in the doorway, eager to see him. Her neighbour's door opened a split second after hers, and the guy came out with a suitcase, glancing across at her and smiling a greeting. It was one of those polite acknowledgements. _You__'__re __my__ neighbour. __I__'__ll __smile __and__ nod__ but__ I__ don__'__t __want __to__ talk __to__ you._

She smiled in return, watching him head down the stairs just as Peter was coming up them. He looked rattled, and she stepped back to let him inside, locking the door behind him.

"You okay?"

He turned to face her, offering her a suddenly hopeful expression and letting his gaze caress her features before returning to her eyes.

"I've finished it with Leanne."

Her eyes widened slightly at his confession. She'd been trying not to get her hopes up too much, certain something would go wrong or that he'd change his mind about her, but for once it seemed she was going to get some happiness, and the feeling was alien and overwhelming.

"R- really?"

He nodded, with a more confident smile.

"_Really_." He reached to her, gently stroking her arms. "I hope it's okay that I came?"

She nodded, moving closer to him and melting into his arms.

.

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	7. Chapter 7

"I missed you," she whispered, feeling a little giddy.

Peter chuckled, moving her hair behind her shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

"I missed you, too." He said as he pulled back slightly, and grinned down at her. "It's such a relief, you know?" he kissed her chastely. "It's like a weight's been lifted, not having to pretend anymore… not having to deny how I feel about you." He kissed her once more, and she let out a contented little sigh.

"Will you stay over again?"

He nodded.

"I _had_ hoped to."

He flashed her a cheeky smile that did something unspeakable to her insides.

"We could order in… and I could make us a cuppa?"

"Great." He smiled, watching her walk backwards towards the kitchen area, struggling to take her eyes off him.

"Ah-" she gasped as her foot met glass, quickly bringing her back down to earth.

"What is it?" Peter moved quickly over to her where she was holding her foot, and he could see blood.

"Oh…" she groaned, "I dropped my glass when you rang the buzzer. I forgot."

He eyed the shards of glass near her bare feet, moving closer and lifting her up onto the counter so she didn't risk standing on anymore.

"Let's have a look, ay?"

He lifted her injured foot up, and she hissed as he gently tugged the piece of glass out, her mind flashing back to when he'd found her drunk on the couch, and pulled glass out of her hand.

"Thanks," she sighed, feeling stupid for walking on it in the first place.

He cleaned the blood away, passing her some tissue to hold to the cut whilst he cleaned up the rest of the glass from the floor.

"Let's have another look," he encouraged, happy to see it had stopped bleeding. "You keep plasters anywhere in the vicinity?"

"Uh, that drawer, there," she pointed.

He pulled the box out and turned around to frown at her.

"_These_? These are no fun. Where are the pictures?"

She grinned, knowing he must get the special kiddies plasters with different pictures on for Simon.

"They'd run out so I had to get the boring plain ones."

"Ah," he nodded, moving back over to her and fixing one onto the heel of her foot. He pressed a kiss to her ankle, and then stood back up to face her. "All better."

"Much."

He found himself distracted by her proximity, nudging her legs open where they hung over the edge of the counter so he could stand even closer, and moving in for a kiss.

She chuckled, his hands finding her waist as his mouth moved to it's favourite spot on her neck.

"Peter-"

He held his hands up.

"I can kiss you with my hands behind my back, if you prefer?" he joked.

"No need," she smiled, pulling his mouth back to hers.

.

Somewhere in between kissing her on the counter and moving over to the couch, they'd both forgotten about ordering take-out. For some reason their hunger had been substituted for a different desire entirely.

She lifted one leg over his knee, straddling him as she sat down and continued to kiss him. He gently squeezed her waist, eager to feel more of her but still tentative about spooking her.

She knew he was keeping himself in check, but she felt more confident then the first time they'd kissed. Perhaps it was because he'd been so understanding that first night, or perhaps it was because he was all _hers_ now; but she wanted to try and take things further.

She knew she was probably being daft for thinking it, but breaking up with Leanne had been a big thing for him to do, and part of her felt like she had to _reward_ him.

She shifted impossibly closer, rubbing herself gently against him and feeling him shift underneath her. He was worked up, his arousal more evident by the second as his hands started to roam slightly. He snaked one up under the back of her top, pressing his palm flat against the warm flesh of her back to pull her closer. The other moved slowly down her thigh and she tensed up, pulling back slightly and fixing her eyes on the misbehaving hand.

"Hey, it's okay," he removed his hand from her leg immediately, gently tilting her chin up so she met his gaze. "It's me," he whispered. "It's _me_."

"I know," She replied, forcing herself to focus on him so she wouldn't fall victim to another flashback. She studied his face intently, trying to calm her breathing down and noticing Peter had a warmth and _love_ in his eyes for her that Frank had _never_ had.

Frank's gaze had only ever been one of possession, and control.

"You okay?"

She nodded, feeling reassured, and moving his hands back to her legs.

"Touch me again," she whispered, in a tone he found unbearably seductive.

He slowly caressed her, over and over again, trying to soothe any nerves that had crept in. After a few moments she moved to kiss him again, but he could feel her hesitation no matter how she tried to hide it, and he gently pushed her back.

"Carla,"

"What's wrong?"

He stroked her cheek and sighed.

"You're trembling. You're not ready." She lowered her gaze as though feeling guilty. "Hey- it's alright,"

"But I want you," She turned her face into his hand, kissing his palm.

"The feeling is _more_ than mutual, but there's no rush, okay? I'm not going anywhere. One step at a time, hm?"

She sighed, feeling frustrated with herself but unable to deny a feeling of _relief_ too. She _did_ want him, that hadn't been a lie; but she hadn't realised until now she wasn't _quite_ as ready as she'd wanted to believe.

"Thank you," she whispered, snuggling against him for a hug and closing her eyes.

.

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As always, thanks for reading/reviewing =)


	8. Chapter 8

=) ~ * ~ HAPPY NEW YEAR ~ * ~ =)

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.

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Carla snuggled up to Peter, running her hand across his chest and resting it over his heart, reassured by the steady beat beneath her palm. Just over a year ago he'd been lying in a hospital bed, hanging onto life by a thread after the devastation of the tram crash.

Just over a year ago he could have _died_.

The thought alone made her heart clench painfully, and she snuggled even closer into his side. She'd had to keep her distance from him for so long, but not anymore. It seemed cruel that now they were allowed to be close, she was struggling to be with him the way she wanted. She was grateful for his continued patience though. She was grateful he wasn't putting any pressure on her.

She closed her eyes and readied herself for sleep. She knew it wouldn't be long before she drifted off. She felt so safe and protected in his arms.

She'd never in her life needed anyone to protect her; never in her life _wanted_ that. In the past men had felt the need to fight her battles and she'd always resented it, always felt like they were interfering or that they thought she wasn't capable; but she knew Peter didn't think that. She knew he respected her and was happy for her to have her independence. She didn't feel like she had to prove herself to him.

It was strange what being with the right person did to you. It was strange how being truly in love with someone could make you view things from such a different perspective. Things she thought were important suddenly seemed irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

If he wanted to fight her battles for her, she'd let him. With him, she actually _liked_ the idea of him wanting to protect her from any harm. She liked the idea of being _his_, and only his; and she'd never really felt that before.

Maybe it was because of what Frank had done to her. She'd been hurt in the past, shunned and disowned and let down more times then she could count; but she supposed she'd never really dealt with it. She'd just hardened herself to everyone and everything.

But what Frank did to her, that had utterly shattered her.

Peter had instantly rushed to her defence. He had never doubted her, and she'd felt soothed by his belief in her like nothing before. She smiled as she considered she might finally have some true happiness with him. Maybe it had all been worth it, if this was her happy ending?

She was pulled from her thoughts when she felt his fingers drifting playfully down her bare arm, then up to the strap of her vest. He toyed with it, lowering it down her shoulder then releasing it again and stilling his hand. He turned his head slightly, dropping a kiss to her forehead and letting out a contented sigh.

"I feel so lucky," she whispered.

"Lucky?"

"Mm." she nodded slightly. "I can't believe I've finally got you. You're so lovely, and sensitive," she dropped a kiss to his chest. "And _gorgeous_."

He chuckled.

"_I'm_ the one that's lucky. You're so far out of my league."

"I'm not," she protested, raising herself up on one arm to look at him through the darkness. "I'm a _wreck_, Peter. I've always been a wreck; my whole life." She gently stroked down his face, drifting her fingertips across the stubble on his chin. "You're the only one that saw. You're the only one that cared enough to help me, and I- I'm so scared that you-"

She held back, noticeably upset.

"Hey- hey what is it? What are you scared about?" He gently lifted her chin up so she'd look at him again.

She hesitated, but she knew she could tell him anything. She knew he'd listen and try to understand.

"I'm scared that this is just temporary. I'm scared you're gonna realise what you've got yourself into, and leave me."

"I'll never leave you, I love you,"

"But what if I mess up?"

"Look who you're talking to," he joked, trying to ease the mood. "If anyone knows what it is to be a walking disaster it's _me_, but _you've_ never judged me. You didn't give up on me or leave me, and I'm not about to do that to you, either." She smiled slightly. "I've never felt like this, Carla. Not ever. Not with _anyone_. Nothing you say or do will change that. I can't bear the thought of a life without you in it. Not now, not ever."

"Really?"

"Really." He assured her. "Now come on, lay back down. I wanna snuggle. Snuggling is so underrated."

She chuckled, and lay back down.

.

Next morning, he woke to the smell of fresh coffee and bacon.

"Breakfast!"

He opened his eyes and smiled at Carla, stood at the end of the bed with a coffee in one hand and a bacon sandwich in the other. She'd put his shirt on over her vest, but left her legs bare, and he couldn't help but appreciate the view. Not only that, it showed she was feeling more comfortable around him.

"Oh… you're like a wonderful vision,"

"_Hardly_. I haven't even had a shower yet."

"I was talking to the coffee and the sandwich, I'll have you know."

"Oy!" she giggled.

"Mmmm… come here so I can devour you."

His eyes were sparkling with mischief as he sat up, and his tone was undeniably flirtatious.

She walked closer and passed him his breakfast with a smile.

"I'm gonna get showered and dressed, then you can do the same."

"You trying to get rid of me?"

"No. Never." She fidgeted slightly. "But… I was thinking about Simon. As much as I like having you to myself, he's probably feeling a little neglected."

"Ah… yeah. Yeah I should probably talk to him."

.

He came out of the bathroom, buttoning up his shirt and glancing across at Carla where she was lounging on the couch and picking at her nails.

"Guess I should get going then,"

She looked back at him over her shoulder and smiled sympathetically. Telling Leanne had been hard, but telling Simon was going to be torture. She got up from the couch and headed over to him, helping him fasten the last few buttons and straightening his collar out for him.

"Text me? Let me know how he is?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I will."

He kissed her goodbye, his hands dropping to her waist as he lingered for a moment longer.

"He'll be okay, kids are resilient you know."

"I know."

"What are you gonna tell him?"

"The truth. Kind of."

He kissed her once more, then made for the door.

.

He'd only been gone a few minutes when the buzzer went, and she wondered if he'd forgotten something.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, uh, I've got a parcel for number six only I'm getting no answer,"

"Oh- yeah he went away yesterday. I don't know when he's back."

"Ah, right. I don't suppose you could take it in, could you? Only, it needs a signature,"

Carla frowned as she considered it. She supposed she could do the neighbourly thing for once.

"Sure. Come on up."

"Thanks."

She pressed the button to let him in, and opened the door. She fiddled with a loose bit of wood on the doorframe, not really paying much attention as she waited for him to make his way up the stairs.

When she glanced up she was confused to see no parcel in his hands; but before she could question him he had hold of her by the hair, and was forcing her back into her flat.

.

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	9. Chapter 9

"What are you doing?" Carla gasped, trying to free herself from the stranger's grip, but his other hand shot up to hold her tightly around the throat.

"Carla Connor." He said calmly, a small smile gracing his features as he looked her over. "He wasn't lying about you. Quite the looker."

"Who w-wasn't ly-ing?" she choked out, trying to pry his fingers away from her neck so she could breathe properly. "What d- do you- want?"

The look in his eyes terrified her, a sick feeling rising in her stomach with every second he had hold of her.

"I'm getting to that," he sneered, her questions earning her a swift smack across the face.

He took advantage of her temporary imbalance, turning her around and bending her forwards over the counter, effectively pinning her down.

"Let me go!"

The man lifted her head up off the counter only to slam it back down on the surface so hard her vision swam.

"But I haven't given you your message from Frank, yet," he whispered, pressing himself against her and running one hand up underneath her skirt.

She gasped, trying to wriggle free but failing miserably.

"Please don't," she whimpered, her panic becoming overwhelming. His fingers tugged her underwear down slightly on one side; and the suggestion of where this was headed hit her at full force as she found herself once again debilitated by her fear. She was just as helpless as she had been with Frank, silently praying he wouldn't hurt her, to a God she wasn't even sure existed anymore.

"You drop the charges. You refuse to testify. You do _whatever_ it takes to get the police off his back and clear his name, or…" he gripped her thigh painfully, "I'll come back and finish off what I've started. You understand?"

She let out a terrified sob.

"I said, do you understand!" he screamed at her.

"Yes," she forced out on a shaky breath.

"Good," he growled, then released her and made to leave.

Her legs buckled, unable to support her weight as she fell ungraciously to her knees. She was still frozen there, pressing herself against the side of the counter as though it might offer her some protection, and listening to the sound of his footsteps fading as he headed down the stairs.

.

Peter dropped his keys onto the counter, Simon trailing sadly behind him.

"Where's Leanne?"

There was no denying she'd left. They'd only just got in but he could see some of her stuff was missing. He supposed she was staying with Stella. He took his gloves off, moving over to the couch and looking nervously into his sons questioning eyes.

"Sit down, son."

"When's Leanne home? Is she alright?"

"Just, please, sit down will you?"

Simon frowned, but sat down as his dad had asked.

"Why won't you answer my questions?"

"Thing is, mate," he fidgeted slightly, struggling to make eye contact for a moment but knowing he had to get a grip. "Leanne and me… well, we're not gonna be living together anymore."

"Why?"

"Because we- we're separating."

Simon scrunched up his face.

"Why?"

"Because…" he took a calming breath, wondering if kids ever grew out of the _'why'_ stage. "She doesn't trust me, Si… and when you're with someone, when you're married there needs to be trust or it just can't work out."

"Well, can't she _learn_ to trust you?"

"I don't think so, no."

Simon's brow furrowed in confusion. He didn't really understand.

"But… if she isn't living with us anymore where's she gonna live? When will I see her? Can she still read me my bed time stories?"

Peter's heart was breaking for his son, but no matter how hard this was he'd made a choice. This conversation had to happen at some point. Carla's words echoed in his mind; _k__ids are resilient_.

Simon was certainly resilient. If the little lad could get through losing his mother, and having an alcoholic father burn the house down and nearly kill them both, then he was pretty sure he'd get through this too.

"You can still see her if you like, just... not every day. And anyway, _I_ can read you your stories. I miss that."

Simon pulled another face. He wasn't satisfied with any of his dad's answers, and he was desperate to make sense of it all. There must be something he wasn't telling him.

"Did she do something bad?"

Peter hesitated. It would have been so easy to tell him all about Nick, but it wasn't appropriate. He wouldn't stoop so low as to put that on a child.

"No."

"Are you sure? Because if she did then she could just say sorry, and that she won't do it ever again, and then you can forgive her and she can come live with us again?"

"Look- it's just not that simple, it's not happening, okay?" he snapped.

The tears escaped then, and Simon ran to his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Peter sighed. He knew he shouldn't have raised his voice. He took a few calming breaths, then headed over to the hallway to knock gently on Simon's bedroom door.

"Si? Open up mate, please? I'm sorry I shouted," Peter tried, sitting himself on the floor and leaning back against the wall. He could hear Si crying on the other side of the door.

He took his phone out of his pocket, typing a text to Carla.

_Mission__ update. Simon not happy. Attempting to coax him out of his room... Miss you X_

He waited for it to send then put it back in his pocket, not noticing the low battery warning flash up on screen.

"Come out here and let me cheer you up, ay? You can have anything you want for tea, watch anything you want on the tele... you can even stay up late if you like but _please_ don't sit in your room crying. Please come out." he tried again, shifting slightly as his back started to ache from sitting at a funny angle.

The door opened on a crack and a pair of sad brown eyes looked at him.

"I want Leanne to stay here. It's not fair." He sniffled.

Peter tugged him closer, gently wiping his tears away with his sleeve.

"I know, mate. And I'm sorry, I _really_ am. But… _I'm_ not going anywhere. Whatever happens, it's always gonna be me and you, you know?"

"But I love Leanne,"

"I know…" he nodded. "But you love your useless old dad _too_, don't you?"

Simon sniffed once more, suddenly worrying his dad might genuinely think otherwise.

"Yeah, I love _you_ too," he answered quickly.

"Can I have a cuddle then? Hm?"

He nodded, and wrapped his arms around him for a hug. He wasn't happy about the situation, but maybe it wasn't permanent. Maybe she'd only moved out for a little bit. They'd argued before and got back together, so maybe he was getting upset over nothing?

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	10. Chapter 10

Greg frowned at the way someone had parked their car, effectively blocking two spaces. He sighed, pulling his case along to the main door and typing in the entry code. Just as he reached for the handle a guy came rushing out of the building, carelessly knocking into his shoulder.

"Watch it!"

The guy didn't even apologise, just glared at him; then quickened his pace, getting in the badly parked car and speeding off. Seemed like today was just one of those days.

Greg sighed again, heading inside and up the stairs. When he got to the top he noticed number 4's door was ajar, and peered inside to see his neighbour on the floor, shaking.

"Hey- are you alright?"

Carla lifted her head sharply to where Greg was stood in the doorway, and was hit with a wave of dizziness that made her reach her hand out in front of her to try and steady herself.

"It's _Carla_, isn't it?" he took a few steps inside her flat. "You're bleeding," he took a few steps closer and she shrank away from him.

"Please don't come near me," she whimpered. She knew he was trying to help, but she didn't want anyone anywhere near her just then. She felt sick, and her head was pounding.

"Okay, it's okay," he took a few steps back. "But, will you let me ring for help? You've got quite a knock to your head. Might have a concussion."

"Mm," she mumbled, raising her hand to the tender area on her head and wincing.

"Was it that guy that just left? Did he do this to you?"

He took his phone out of his jacket and dialled 999. She looked up at him again, seeming a little vacant.

"Erm, yeah." she finally answered, fighting against the urge to vomit.

.

Peter produced an early Christmas present, offering it to Si whilst they were waiting for their food to cook. He'd requested fish finger sandwiches; hardly the most nutritional meal but he wasn't going to argue. Not today.

"What's that?" his eyes were undeniably curious.

"One of your Christmas presents."

"How did you get Santa to deliver it early?"

Peter tapped his nose.

"Never you mind. Me and Santa have an understanding, that's all."

Simon hesitated for only a moment longer, before reaching for the present and tearing the paper off quickly.

"Oh! I've wanted this for ages! Can we watch it now?"

"Yeah, of course. You put it in the DVD player, and I'll check on those fish fingers, hm?"

"Okay."

He smiled a little then, quickly opening up the case to get the film out.

.

When the police arrived they tried to talk to Carla about what had happened, but she was still shaken up, and wasn't entirely making sense when she answered their questions.

Greg gave them a description of the guy that had attacked her, thankful for his somewhat photographic memory as he told them details about the man's car as well.

He stayed close by as the paramedics checked Carla over. They concluded pretty quickly that she needed to be checked out at hospital, suspecting concussion and thinking she should have a CT scan just to be on the safe side.

She reached clumsily for her phone where it had fallen to the floor in the earlier scuffle, but then just stared at it blankly.

"Is there someone you want me to call for you?"

"Erm… Peter?" she offered Greg her phone, and he moved slowly over to her to take it.

"Okay," he nodded, scrolling through her contacts to find Peter's name.

She tried to stand and failed miserably, the paramedics moving to steady her as they grew more concerned about the knock to her head.

"Easy there, love," one of them said, before looking across at their partner. "We're gonna have to carry her out."

Carla let out a sound of irritation, then glanced back up at Greg as he held the phone to his ear, waiting for an answer. She really hoped Peter would be with her soon.

.

As the film came to an end, Peter pulled his phone out to update Carla only to realise it had turned itself off. He tutted, heading over to the kitchen where his charger was still plugged into the wall. When he switched his phone on, he was disappointed that she hadn't responded to his earlier text.

Then he noticed he had a voicemail.

_Hi, Peter? My name's Gregory Denver, I'm Carla's neighbour - from number six... I don't know exactly what's happened but I found her in a bit of a state, and she's being taken to hospital… they think she's got a concussion but they're not sure how serious it is yet. She asked for you..._

Peter felt panic and worry overwhelm him, as a dozen questions filled his head. What had happened? Was she hurt? Had she had an accident? Had she…

No.

He took a breath. He couldn't let himself think she'd tried to end it again. He knew she wouldn't do that. She'd been happy when he left, not distressed. But something _had_ happened, and he needed to know she was okay.

"Si,"

Simon turned round at the sound of panic in his dad's voice.

"What's up?"

"We need to go to the hospital. Turn the tele off and get your coat, quickly,"

He did as asked, waiting by the door as his dad searched frantically for something.

"Is it Leanne?"

"Oh- no. No, it's not Leanne. Uh, did you see where I put my keys, mate?"

"They were falling down the side of the couch so I put them on the hook near the door like Leanne always does."

"When did you do that?"

"When you went to the loo."

Peter took another calming breath. He'd been irritated for a moment but at least he knew where his keys were now; that was the most important thing. He couldn't bear to think of Carla alone and scared.

"Right, come on then,"

They rushed down the stairs and out to the car, Peter helping Simon fasten his seat belt before getting in the drivers seat and starting the engine.

"Who is it?"

"Ay?"

"Who's at the hospital?"

"Oh, a friend. Carla."

"Carla?"

"Yeah, you know Carla. Dark hair, owns the factory."

"Can't we go see her tomorrow?"

"No, she's all on her own,"

"Well hasn't she got someone else that can visit her? I'm tired."

"No. We won't stay long I just- I need to know she's okay."

Simon fiddled with his seat belt, thinking up another question as they were stopped at yet _another_ set of traffic lights.

"Can't her mum visit her?"

"No. She- she's in heaven."

"Like my first mummy?"

Peter glanced sideways, worried Si might get upset. But he just looked curious.

"Yeah." The car behind peeped their horn, and when Peter looked back up he realised the lights had changed to green. "You okay?"

"Mm."

"That's not a very convincing _mm_."

Simon shuffled in his seat.

"Your friend must be pretty sad, not having her mummy. She might like us to sit with her for a while."

Peter smiled at his son's consideration.

"Yeah. I think she'd like that."


	11. Chapter 11

Peter glanced through the observation window and got his first glimpse of Carla since he'd heard she was in hospital. There was a doctor in there with her, but she was conscious, and talking; and that surely meant she was going to be okay.

He felt relief wash over him, and then realised Simon was tugging on his sleeve.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I _said_… can I get some sweets? There's a machine over there and I'll come straight back."

"Um- yeah, yeah okay." He rooted in his pocket and pulled some change out, watching Simon saunter down the corridor to the vending machine.

He heard the door to Carla's room open and turned back to see the doctor coming out.

"Excuse me, doctor, is she going be okay?"

"She's got a concussion. We were initially very concerned… her symptoms suggested there might be more serious damage, but nothing showed up on the C.T scan."

"_Symptoms_?"

"Confusion, balance problems… she was sick several times in the ambulance."

"But she's better now?"

"_Better_, yes." He nodded, fiddling with the end of his pen. "But I'd like to keep her in for observation, just to be on the safe side."

"Okay. Thanks."

.

Carla startled slightly as the door opened, but smiled when she saw who it was.

"Peter,"

"Hey," he moved swiftly over to her, reaching for her hand and looking her over anxiously. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. My battery died and I only just got the message – from your neighbour."

"It's okay. You're here now."

"What happened?" He perched on the side of the bed, not missing the tension in her frame, or the fact she'd obviously been crying not long before he'd arrived.

"I was stupid." She lowered her gaze to his hand, his fingers gently stroking her wrist. She pondered telling him the whole story, but he'd only feel guilty for not being there, and she didn't want that. "When you left, someone called. Said he was a delivery guy and asked if I could take a parcel in for next door." She sighed. "Who delivers parcels on a Sunday?"

"Some places might," he offered. "You were doing a favour for a neighbour, don't feel bad about that."

She shook her head.

"I was careless. I let that man in the building. Frank had sent him to- to threaten me. To scare me into dropping the charges, or changing my statement… whatever it took." She looked back up at him then, lowering her voice slightly as though ashamed of what she was about to admit. "And he _did_ scare me, Peter. I couldn't do anything."

"Hey, come on, I'm here now," he soothed, reaching to stroke her cheek but she flinched away from the contact. "Carla?" his brow furrowed, her nervousness at such an innocent touch troubling him. "Is there something else?"

She hesitated, seeing the concern in his eyes and desperate not to burden him further.

"Sorry, I just… my head's killing me. They won't give me anything stronger then paracetamol."

He frowned. He didn't know what she was leaving out, but now wasn't the best time to push it; not when Simon could walk through the door any minute.

"Okay," he accepted her explanation. "Listen, Si's with me, he's just choosing sweets. He does take his time, but he could be back any minute."

She nodded understanding.

"How he is?"

"Not too bad, all things considered. Leanne's moved out. I think he's convinced himself it's just temporary but… one step at a time, you know?"

"Yeah."

The door opened and he turned to acknowledge his son.

"Blimey, mate, how much have you bought?"

Simon shrugged.

"I didn't know what to get."

"So you thought you'd eat 'em all?"

"No, silly! I got something for you, and something for Carla. Only I didn't know what she liked. Do you like smarties?"

Carla smiled at the gesture.

"I _love_ smarties. Thank you,"

Simon smiled, moving over to them both and passing them their sweets. He plonked himself down in a nearby chair, swinging his legs as he ripped open his chocolate bar and took a bite.

Carla and Peter exchanged a slightly awkward look. If Simon had noticed they were still holding hands, he wasn't showing it.

"Are you being bullied?"

She looked across at him, her eyebrows raised slightly.

"Erm-"

"Because there was this lad at school that was bullying _me_. He used to push me over in the playground and call me names but I told dad and he went into school and he got moved into a different class. Dad could sort 'em out for _you_, too."

Carla chuckled then.

"Could he?" She played along; giving Peter an amused smile.

"Oh aye, bullies don't stand a chance with me." He smiled back.

.

Leanne headed upstairs, Stella trailing behind her to help her get a few more of her things. She was surprised to find the flat empty, but she supposed it saved on arguments. It might also stop her feeling quite so guilty for walking out; for giving up so easily.

She passed Simon's room and hesitated, pushing the door open and just staring at his bed and his toys.

So much for not feeling guilty.

But the more she thought about it all, the more she realised Peter had a point. They couldn't stay together just for Simon's sake. She loved him as dearly as though he was her own, but if it weren't for him…

She sighed, leaning against the door frame. She loved the idea of having a family so much that she'd been missing the point all along. She loved _Simon_ more than she loved her _husband_. Truth be told, if it weren't for him she probably wouldn't be married to Peter now, she'd probably have flitted off with Nick.

She'd denied it many times, and the realisation was a bitter pill to swallow.

"You're thinking too much."

She picked up one of Simon's favourite books, tatty from being over-read.

"Was it wrong?"

"Was what wrong?"

"Was it wrong of me to want it to work? For Simon's sake?"

Stella rested her hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.

.

It was getting late, and Peter was well aware they'd stayed past visiting hours. He supposed Simon being well behaved had helped – that and the nurses seemed to think he was Carla's husband. He didn't bother to tell them otherwise.

She'd been resting mostly, and she seemed to have dropped off. He supposed he should make a move, noticing his son was struggling to keep his eyes open where he was slouched across the chair playing on one of the games on his phone.

He quietly got up, leaning over her and gently kissing her on the corner of the mouth, then releasing her hand and moving over to tap Simon on the knee.

"Time to get home and get you to bed." He whispered.

Simon glanced across at Carla, seeing she was sleeping and yawning himself.

"Can you carry me?"

"Ohhh, I suppose. Get your coat on. Quietly though."

He lifted him up, heading out of the room and stopping by the nurse's station.

"Can you let her know I'll be back in tomorrow? I would've said goodbye but I didn't want to wake her."

"Yeah. Who should I say?"

"Peter."

The nurse nodded.

.

.

.


	12. Chapter 12

Carla was fidgety. Fidgety was probably an understatement. She hated hospitals, she'd seen too many people she loved die; too many accidents and too much heartbreak. She hated the smell of them. She hated the crisp white sheets, and listening to other patients suffering. She hated how so many of the nurses seemed to lack compassion.

She supposed she was lucky, having her own room rather than being shoved on a random ward, or worse, left in a corridor because there were no beds free… but most of all she hated the _loneliness_. The _uncertainty_. The _waiting_.

The door finally opened, her hand flying to her chest as the momentary panic caused her heart to race painfully.

"Morning, Carla."

"Morning."

He was looking at her notes as he approached her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

She had a pounding headache still, but he didn't need to know that.

"Fine." She lied. "Will I be able to go home today?"

"Oh- I'd like to keep you in another night."

"Well, I'll discharge myself."

He looked up from the notes for the first time, the anxiety on her face causing him only more concern; and no matter how _fine_ she claimed to be, he could tell she was in pain.

"You could, but I'd really feel better if you'd stay here, just one more night. Then see how you're feeling tomorrow, hm?"

"But I'm _fine_. The scan was _fine_. There are people sicker than me that could use this bed."

"Carla, you were very unwell. You were sick several times, and more serious symptoms can develop even after 24 hours… 48 hours." He tried to reason.

"I wasn't sick because of my head." She explained. "I- I was sick because I was… afraid. I was… _attacked_… a few months ago, and... the guy that threatened me yesterday he- he threatened to do the same thing and I just…" she felt the same sick feeling coming back just at the thought of it. "That's why I was sick."

"You can't be sure of that. Look, even if that _was_ the cause, you need to be under observation for at least 48 hours after a concussion like this, and you've already told us you live alone. So, the only place you're going to get that observation, is _here_. And that aside, you're not fine. You're in pain, aren't you."

She frowned, but there was no point lying when he clearly didn't want to discharge her yet.

"I've a bit of a headache."

.

"Come on, Si, we're gonna be late."

Simon came out of his bedroom, looking sulky.

"I don't want to go to school. I don't feel well."

Peter sighed, seeing he hadn't even got dressed and wondering how likely it was he actually felt ill, or was just playing for attention.

"What's wrong?"

Simon hesitated, then moved both hands to his stomach.

"I feel sick. And I've got a temperature."

"Oh aye,"

"Honest!"

"I thought you liked school in the run up to Christmas, you get to play games and make cards."

"Exactly, it's not like I'll be missing out on learning anything."

Peter smirked. Sometimes Simon seemed a little too clever for his years.

"If I give in, are you gonna be well behaved again when we go to visit Carla?"

He pondered it, then finally nodded.

"Yep."

"Okay. But this is a one off. You've got to go in tomorrow."

"Yep." Simon grinned, happy to have got his own way. "Can we go see Leanne today, too?"

"Oh- I don't know. We'll see."

.

"Hey."

Carla glanced up to see Greg stood in the doorway, and pulled the flimsy hospital gown around herself a little tighter.

"Uh, hi." She shifted slightly, feeling awkward.

"I thought I'd come see how you were… and, I thought you might be needing these back."

He held up her flat keys as he approached her bed, offering them to her with a small smile.

"Oh- thanks," She relaxed slightly as she took her keys back. "I'd completely forgot."

"It's all locked up."

She gave him a small smile.

"Thanks for- for helping… and for calling Peter for me."

He took her appreciation as an invitation to sit down.

"Has he been to see you?"

She nodded.

"Last night."

There was an awkward silence, and she saw his gaze move to the bump on her head. He winced.

"Looks nasty."

"Feels it, too."

He let out an uncomfortable laugh at her sarcastic tone, running a hand back through his hair and getting to his feet.

"I'll- I'll go. Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

She softened at his honesty and concern.

"No- stay. I'm sorry, sarcasm is like my default." She shrugged. "It's nice to have some company, if that's okay?"

He smiled.

"I could get you a cuppa?"

"I'd like that."

.

Peter headed into the pub, seeing Stella and feeling a tightening in his chest at the icy glare she shot his way. He picked Simon up as though he could protect himself with the little lad, and sure enough her expression changed. She had no desire to make Simon feel as uncomfortable as his dad.

"Peter."

"Stella." He cleared his throat. "Is Leanne about? Si was hoping to see her for a little bit."

"You poorly, love?"

Simon nodded, not wanting to get his dad in trouble.

"I've got a stomach ache."

She eyed Peter warily, then looked back to Simon, seeing the hopeful look in his eyes.

"Come through the back."

Leanne looked up as the door opened, seeing Simon wriggle down from Peter's hold and bound towards her for a hug.

"Hey! What are you doing here?"

She hugged him tightly, glaring at Peter with an expression eerily similar to Stella's, before turning her attention back to Simon.

"I missed you. Can I stay with you for a bit? I'm not well."

"Oh I- I don't know. Shouldn't you be in bed if you're not well?"

"Dad's got to go to the hospital."

"The hospital?" she looked at Peter with concern, unable to stop herself worrying for him despite everything that had happened.

"His friend's in there, I don't mind going with him but I'd rather stay here with you."

She nodded.

"Okay, you stay here with me for a bit."

Peter felt relieved. He hadn't been sure how she'd react to him dropping in on her like this, but he was glad she was being civil – for Simon's sake if no-one elses.

"Thanks, Leanne."

"I'm not doing it for you."

.

.

.

=)


	13. Chapter 13

Peter rounded the corner, heading down the hospital corridor towards Carla's room. He smiled at the nurse nearby then turned to look through the observation window, hesitating when he saw a man in there with her. He frowned. He didn't recognise him, but he didn't seem to be a doctor.

He was sat in the chair beside Carla's bed; cup of tea in hand, and casual as ever as they chatted away. Something made Carla let out a laugh and Peter felt a stab of jealousy rush through him. He gripped the bouquet of flowers he'd bought her a little tighter, overwhelmed with the desire to stake his claim and send whoever the guy was, packing.

He took a calming breath and pushed the door open.

"Hey, you." He announced his presence, glad when Carla's attention quickly drifted to him, and a smile graced her face. She seemed less on edge than last night, but he couldn't help but wonder if her good mood was related to her _other_ visitor.

That or she was putting on a front to stop him worrying.

"Hey," she greeted him, Greg temporarily forgotten as she set eyes on the one person she'd been eager to see all morning, and then the flowers in his hands. "Oh, Peter they're beautiful,"

He moved over to her, resting the flowers on the bedside table and leaning down to kiss her square on the mouth. She let out a faint whimper of surprise, but didn't pull away. He kissed her once more for good measure, before sitting on the side of the bed and taking hold of her hand, shooting what could only be interpreted as a _glare_ at the _other_ man in the room.

"Who are _you_?"

Greg tensed slightly, the message clear.

"Gregory Denver." He replied, offering his hand to shake.

Peter wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.

"O-oh… right." He cleared his throat, attempting to look a little less intimidating.

"I was just… returning Carla's flat keys."

"And he's been keeping me company," Carla added, stroking Peter's hand affectionately. She could see he was worked up, but something about his jealously and protective side set her heart racing in an altogether different manner to what she was used to as of late.

"Well… thanks. For everything." Peter forced a smile.

"Don't mention it." Greg forced a smile in return, as he got the distinct feeling he was being dismissed. "Erm, I'll… get going. Take care, Carla."

"Yeah…" She nodded, watching him leave then turning her attention back to Peter, who looked decidedly guilty.

"Sorry," he muttered quietly.

"No need."

"I just… I didn't know who he was and I wanted him to-"

"Know I was spoken for?"

He risked a glance, but she didn't look upset or annoyed, just amused. He gave her a small smirk.

"_That_ and… I know it's stupid but I just… I don't like anyone else near you. Especially _random_ blokes I _don't_ know. It makes me worry."

"Other people are gonna come near me, Peter. It's unavoidable."

"I know I just… If I could keep them all out of touching distance I would. But I- I shouldn't have behaved like that. I won't do it again."

She found his naughty-boy expression incredibly appealing.

"What if I liked it?"

"You liked it?"

She nodded.

"It was… cute."

"_Cute_?" He pulled a face.

"Okay, not cute. Very… _manly_." She teased, glad when he let out a chuckle. She bit her lip, lowering her gaze. "I like that you're protective of me, Peter. Makes me feel safe."

He moved his hand under her chin, gently encouraging her to look back up at him. His eyes were warm and loving, and when he moved to stroke her cheek she didn't flinch away. He smiled softly, silently promising her he'd always keep her safe.

"So, you allowed out today?"

She shook her head.

"They want to keep me in another night. Said I need to be kept an eye on... and seeing as I live alone I couldn't really argue."

"Well, you can stay with me. I'll keep _both_ eyes on you."

She smiled coyly.

"What about Simon?"

"Don't worry about that, I'll sort something out. Okay?"

She nodded.

"I'll have to wait for the doctor to come round again. Could be a few hours… You needn't wait, I can call you when I'm _released_."

"You sure? I don't mind waiting,"

"I'm sure. I'm safe here aren't I."

.

Frank was fuming, staring at the miscreant who now expected payment for a job _far_ from well done.

"Which part of _threaten_ her, did you not understand?"

"I threatened her."

"You _hospitalised_ her."

"So she got a little knock to the head," he shrugged. "She got the message clear enough."

"If this gets back to me-"

"How could it? She's no idea who I am and anyway, I'm not sticking around. You know that. So if you could settle up-"

Frank laughed.

"Oh no, no I don't think so."

"What?"

"I'm not paying you for making the situation even worse than it already was."

"Well, I'll go to the police then. Tell 'em what you-"

"No, you won't." He said calmly.

"You wanna bet?"

"You won't go. You're leaving town for a reason, and I'm betting someone with morals as questionable as yours, probably has no desire to go anywhere near a police station." Frank smirked. "And even if you did, I'll just deny it. Not like any money's exchanged hands. Now, if you don't mind, I've got things to do."

.

Leanne looked at her phone, Peter's name flashing on the screen. She sighed, and picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Lea,"

"What do you want?"

"How's Si?"

She rolled her eyes.

"He's fine. How's your mate?"

Peter didn't miss the sarcasm. She didn't give a hoot about his _mate_. He was glad at least Simon hadn't told her it was Carla. He sighed as he unlocked the flat door and headed upstairs.

"I'll get straight to the point… is there any chance you can look after Si for the night? It's fine if you can't, I know it's short notice I just thought it might do him good spending some time with you. Help him adjust."

Leanne fought the urge to tell him where to go as she glanced across at Simon, eating the sandwich she'd made him and watching tele. She didn't know how things were going to work out but she knew _one_ thing for sure, she couldn't just abandon him.

"Alright. Maybe it could be a regular thing. But, on _my_ terms. You can't just drop him off as you please."

"Thanks. I'll drop some of his stuff round in a bit."

"Okay."

She hung up on him then, not wanting to hear anymore of his _gratitude_, and moved over to sit next to Simon.

"You fancy staying with me tonight?"

"I don't have any of my stuff for school tomorrow."

"Well, maybe we'll give you another day off, hm?"

"Okay." He beamed. It could only be a good thing that he was getting to spend time with Leanne. Surely her and his dad would be back together soon?

.

Carla sighed as the nurse left. Her doctor wouldn't be round for another hour – at the earliest, and she'd been advised to just get some rest till then. She wished she'd asked Peter to stay longer.

She rolled over in bed, facing away from the window and closing her eyes. There was something unsettling about being under observation, whether it was for her own good or not, it made her want to pull the covers up over her head for some remnant of privacy.

The door reopened, but she didn't bother to turn over. It was probably only the nurse again anyway. She sighed, snuggling into the pillow and listening as they flicked through her notes. They put them down, walking around her side of the bed and stopping in front of her.

"Hello, Carla."

Her eyes shot open.

"Frank?"

.

.

.


	14. Chapter 14

"I _am_ sorry about that," he gestured towards her head casually. "I never told him to do that to you."

She sat up in bed, not liking the way he towered over her.

"Get out, or I'll call the nurse. The police are still here-"

"No, they're not. You think I didn't check that?"

She tried to get to the call button anyway, but he yanked it out of her reach.

"How did you even get in here?"

"Told them I was your brother. Don't you recognise me?" he teased.

"You're not allowed to be here. You're not allowed to be anywhere near me, you-"

"The charges haven't been dropped." He interrupted, deciding to get straight to the point as he may not have much time.

"And they won't be, either." She snapped, trying to draw some strength from her anger.

"Careful, you almost sound like you _want_ a second helping."

Her strength officially abandoned her, as she felt herself start to gag at the implication. He sat on the side of the bed and she shuffled across to the other edge.

"Stay away from me." She pleaded, suddenly desperate for some of that observation she'd previously wanted to hide from. Why hadn't anyone noticed? Why didn't anyone come in and help?

He smiled calmly, enjoying how powerless he could make her feel.

"I was hoping you'd do the right thing, but… maybe it's _Peter_ I need to be threatening, hm?"

"This has got _nothing_ to do with Peter."

"Oh, this has _everything_ to do with Peter. He's been lucky so far. I nearly did it, you know."

"Did what?"

"I was gonna run him down. That night, after I left you. He was outside. He walked into the road… and it would have been _so_ easy."

"You're lying," she whimpered.

"Am I?"

"You're lying!" she insisted, unable to even contemplate a life without Peter in it.

"You want Peter to stay alive and kicking, you know what you have to do. Don't make me have to ask you again."

He stared her down, letting his eyes roam her figure one more time, and then got up and left.

.

Peter eyed the clock anxiously. It was early evening and he still hadn't heard from Carla. He was sure she should have been discharged by now.

He rooted in his pocket for the slip of paper he'd written the ward phone number on, and dialled it, holding it to his ear anxiously.

"Hello?... Yeah- I was wondering about a patient… Carla Connor…" he got up from the couch and started to pace as he waited for the nurse to get back to him. "Discharged herself? When?..." he glanced at the clock again. She'd been out of hospital a few hours already. "O-okay, thank you. Bye."

He took a deep breath, trying not to panic, and dialled Carla's number.

.

Carla startled at the sound of her phone, swiping tears from her face and putting the vodka bottle down.

She lurched clumsily forwards towards the table, knocking the remote and some paperwork onto the floor as she grabbed her phone and answered it.

"He- hell- o?"

"Carla?"

"Peter," she sobbed.

"Carla, where are you?"

"I'm at- I'm… home. Home?" She let out a despairing laugh. "This isn't _home_."

He grabbed his keys, staying on the phone as he headed downstairs. It was obvious by the way she was slurring she'd been drinking.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Oh you- you know jus a- I had a glass or two,"

She glanced back at the vodka bottle, nearly empty, and crawled back over to it.

"Why didn't you call me?"

He got in the car, shoving the key in and starting the engine.

"I just had to go, had to get out, I just…" she sighed at herself. "I'm sorry,"

"Look, I'm coming round, okay? Just, get a glass of water, if you're up to it, and I'll be there real soon."

She didn't respond, instead reaching for the vodka bottle and emptying the last few drops down her throat.

"Carla?"

"Okay," she said quietly.

.

Simon flicked the television channels, barely settling on one long enough to see what was on. Leanne took the remote and turned it off.

"Mum! I was watching that!" He whined.

"You were watching a _dozen_ different channels all at once, were you?" she joked, his sulky expression shifting into a grin. "I think it's about time we got you ready for bed, hm?"

"Okay." He sighed, then an idea came to him. "Oh I- I don't have Big Ted. I can't sleep without _him_, can we go and get him?"

"Um," she glanced at her watch, mulling it over. She knew how attached he was to the stuffed toy, and she wanted him to be at ease. "Yeah, okay, come on."

He smiled happily. Maybe his dad would suggest they both stayed? It was less cramped then staying at the pub.

.

Peter got out of the car and headed towards the building, typing in the door code and heading upstairs.

He knocked on Carla's door and waited anxiously for her to answer.

"Carla?"

She forced her eyes open. She felt dreadful. Concussions and alcohol apparently didn't mix. Her head was pounding painfully, and her limbs were at that stage where they refused to do exactly what she wanted.

"Carla? It's me,"

She forced herself to her feet, heading towards the door and opening each lock in turn. When he saw her he instantly reached to her to support her. She'd clearly had a lot more to drink then she'd told him.

"Oh, sweetheart,"

"Frank came to the hospital," she explained quickly, starting to cry again and leaning into him.

"He did _what_?" Peter asked her, alarmed by the audacity of the man.

"He said he'd hurt you if I didn't... he said he'd hurt you, Peter... I couldn't bear it."

"Hey, shh, it's okay, he hasn't come anywhere near me," he soothed, desperate to ease her distress.

.

Simon bounded up the stairs eagerly, expecting to see his dad there but disappointed when he realised he wasn't.

Leanne came up behind him and headed to his bedroom to find his bear, then came straight back out and passed it to him with a smile.

"There you go. One teddy bear, as requested."

He frowned.

"Thank you."

"Hey, what's up?"

"I thought dad would be here."

She knelt down to his eye level.

"Well, he must have stuff to do. He'll be back in the morning though, hm? We can get breakfast, then come see him. How about that?"

He considered it, then nodded.

"Okay."

.

.

.


	15. Chapter 15

"This is what we're gonna do, okay? You're gonna ring Frank, and tell him you're not gonna turn up to the trial."

Carla sniffed, shaking her head slightly.

"He'll ask why I don't just drop the charges."

"Then you'll tell him I don't know what you're planning. I'd never let you drop the charges, and neither would Maria. It's completely plausible you'd choose to do it this way."

"But what if he hurts you?"

"He won't, okay? He'll keep his distance till the trial, and then it'll be too late. He'll be locked up. Problem solved."

"But he could get someone else to hurt you-"

"Carla, stop torturing yourself sweetheart, please?"

"You're all I've got left, Peter. I couldn't bear it if I lost you too."

"I'm gonna be _fine_, I promise you." He gently wiped some of her tears away. "We'll ring your solicitor tomorrow, tell her everything… tell her we're together now and explain about him threatening you. Then when he goes to prison, he won't get chance to do or say _anything_. Trust me. Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded.

.

"Morning Simon," Stella greeted the boy cheerily.

"Morning." He huffed, sitting down at the table with a sulky expression.

"You feeling any better today?" she asked him tentatively.

He shrugged, playing with the tablecloth.

She exchanged a worried look with Leanne, who was just bringing some toast over.

"What's up, Si?" Leanne tried, sitting down next to him and ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Nothin,"

"Well, eat up ay? Then we can go see your dad. Wherever he was last night, well, he's probably back now. Will that cheer you up?"

He pondered the suggestion for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay."

.

Peter's phone started ringing again. The first time he'd ignored it, not wanting to get up just yet. But whoever it was was persistent, so he supposed he really ought to answer it.

He carefully shifted out of bed, not wanting to disturb Carla. She looked like she could do with the rest, and he'd rather she slept off as much of her hangover as she could.

When he found his phone Leanne's name was flashing on the screen. He groaned, and answered.

"Yeah?"

"Where the hell are you, Peter?"

"Er- excuse _me_, but I was at the hospital all day yesterday, and I've barely had _any_ sleep. Not that I need to explain my whereabouts to you anymore." He snapped defensively, not appreciating her tone.

"Right, yeah… sorry." She was irritated with him, but she knew she needed to calm down. "But where are you now? You're not at the flat and I've got Simon here with me."

"Do you need me to come get him?"

"Well, no," she rolled her eyes. "I can look after him today, but that's not the point. He's upset and you're not here."

"What's the matter with him?"

"I think he's just feeling a bit sensitive, you know… with all the disruption the last few days. He wants to see you."

"Right. I'm on my way."

Peter hung up and sighed. He grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling a note to Carla to say he'd gone to pick up Simon and heading back into the bedroom. He tucked the note under her alarm clock, then quickly pulled his clothes on.

"Back soon sleeping beauty," he whispered, leaning down to peck her on the cheek, and then heading out.

.

When he got back to his flat, he unlocked the door and headed upstairs, making a mental note to himself to ask Leanne for her set of keys back. She didn't need them now she was staying with Stella; that and he didn't like to think she could let herself in as and when she felt like it.

"Dad!" Simon ran towards him.

"Hiya mate," he picked him up for a quick hug, and then set him back down. "What's the matter with you then, hm?"

"I just missed you." He offered awkwardly. "But now you're here can we all do something together?"

Leanne's phone rang at that moment, and she disappeared into the next room to answer it.

Peter knelt down in front of Simon and shook his head.

"If you're feeling better, you should be at school, mister."

"Oh I- I'm not,"

Peter wasn't convinced, but another day off wouldn't do any harm.

"Well, I've got things I need to do today. You can see us both separately though."

"You mean you want to see your friend again?"

"Well… that's one of the things, yes. But how about you come with me, hm? You really cheered her up in hospital."

Simon pulled a face, just as Leanne came back in.

"I'm sorry Peter, I'm gonna have to get going."

"Where?" Simon asked, his plan to get them all together for the day failing miserably.

"Something's just come up, I'm sorry Si. But I'll see you again soon, and you can see your dad today."

"I want to see you both at the same time!" he whined.

Leanne looked at Peter for help.

"It's okay Lea, you get going."

"Look, I'll see you again really soon, okay?" She promised, giving Simon a quick hug and a kiss, then going to leave.

"Oh- Lea,"

"Yeah?"

"Have you er, have you got all your things?"

"Yeah." she nodded, confused.

"Well, could I have your set of keys back then?"

"Oh- right. Erm..." She pulled her keys out, detaching them from her key ring, then passing them over. "See you later then, Si."

"Bye," he said sadly.

.

.

.


	16. Chapter 16

"You sit yourself down, and I'll get you something to drink."

"This is where she lives?"

"Yep."

Simon looked around the flat in awe, his gaze resting on one item in particular.

"Her tele's massive."

.

Carla opened her eyes, squinting at the light coming under the door from the next room. She wondered how long Peter had been up, missing the comfort of his embrace. She groaned pathetically as she sat up, her head pounding at even the smallest movement.

She stumbled towards the door, grabbing her dressing gown from the back of it and pulling it on. She tied it round herself, trying to get warm, and padded into the front room.

"Oh, hiya love." Peter greeted her quickly.

"Hi," she said meekly, making a beeline for the couch, but startling when she saw Simon sat there. "Oh- hello Simon."

"Hi. How do you turn your tele on? Your remote's got way more buttons then ours."

"Uh,"

"Shift up Si, let her sit down. She's not feeling too well."

Simon shifted across the couch, holding the remote towards her as he waited for her to show him. She sat down beside the young boy, feeling a little awkward.

"Um, this one here, at the top see?"

He flicked it on and she grimaced at the noise.

"Turn it down, mate. She's feeling delicate, remember."

He searched for the volume arrows, and lowered it as told. Carla pulled herself back to her feet and shuffled into the kitchen, happy Simon was occupied for the time being.

She looked at Peter questioningly, leaning back against the counter and watching him as he poured some juice into a glass.

"I did leave you a note," he whispered.

"Did you?"

"Under your clock?" When she didn't look any less confused, he smirked. "No? Am I gonna have to start sticking notes _on _you for you to actually see them?"

She let out a laugh.

"Maybe."

He smiled, putting the carton back in the fridge and taking the drink over to his son.

"So, breakfast?" He offered, moving back into the kitchen area.

"I think I might go have a bath before I eat anything."

"Oh – let me run it for you."

Simon screwed his face up, peering back at them over his shoulder.

"Why are you running her bath for her?"

"I run _yours_ for you,"

"It's not the same."

"Well, she's got a concussion. It makes her dizzy and we don't want her falling and hurting herself any more, do we."

"Oh… right." He turned back to the tele and continued flicking through all the channels. "You've got _way_ more channels then my dad."

"Still nothing to watch on them though." She joked, happy Peter's answer had seemed to satisfy him.

She went into the bedroom to get some clean clothes, and Peter went into the bathroom to start running her bath for her.

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He looked up as the door opened and Carla came in, setting her clean clothes on the side and stumbling suddenly.

"Hey- careful!" he reached to her instinctively, and she let out a hiss of pain when one of his hands accidentally came into contact with the top of her leg. She pulled away from his touch, struggling to look up at him. "Carla?"

"I'm fine,"

"What was _that_ then?"

"Oh I- I banged my leg on something last night. One of the perks of being drunk, crap co-ordination." She tried to joke it off, finally looking up and giving him a little smile; but he wasn't fooled.

"Love," he sighed, noticing she was on edge. "Can I see?"

She eyed him warily, biting her lip as she considered his request, then nodding permission.

He shut the door quietly, and turned the lock so Simon couldn't burst in. He perched on the edge of the tub, tugging her closer and slowly untying her dressing gown. She'd expected anxiety to overwhelm her then, but it didn't. Maybe because he was concerned… just _looking_. There was nothing sexual about that particular moment.

He encouraged her gown open and his eyes locked onto it straight away; clear finger-shaped bruising at the top of one thigh.

He crumbled at the sight, his eyes darting to hers with only one question.

"Frank?"

"No," she shook her head. "The- the other guy."

He looked back at the bruising, covering his mouth with both hands for a moment then forcing himself to ask her the next question.

"Tell me he didn't?"

She'd started to tremble at the memory of what happened, but something about Peter's tears and concern suddenly put her at ease. He'd _never_ do anything to hurt her. She lifted her hand to his face, wiping one of his tears away and taking a few calming breaths.

"Carla? Tell me he didn't do to you what Frank did? _Please_?"

She shook her head, suddenly realising she hadn't answered the first time.

"No. He didn't. He just… threatened to."

Peter let out a sob, gently reaching one hand out to her again, and running his fingertips around the angry marks.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It didn't matter."

"Of course it matters Carla, I should've been here. This is why you flinched at the hospital, isn't it? I knew there was something else."

"This isn't your fault, Peter."

"But if I'd been here he wouldn't have been able to hurt you. I could've protected you."

"Simon needed you-"

"So did _you_." He shook his head, unable to accept this couldn't have been prevented. "I should never have left you. He never should have had the chance to threaten you, to hurt you… and I- I'm so sorry,"

"Hey- hey darlin," she lifted his chin so he'd look at her. "It's not your fault, and I- I'm fine. I'm safe with you, aren't I?"

"I've let you down,"

"No…"

"I have," he insisted, careful not to raise his voice too much or Simon might hear. His eyes were full of desperation. "How do I make it better, sweetheart? Tell me... how do I make this right?"

She felt tears welling in her own eyes, seeing the strength of his emotion. She knew he'd feel like it was his fault, that was why she'd been reluctant to tell him, but she didn't want to keep secrets from him anymore, not when she could gain such comfort from him instead.

"Kiss me better," she whispered, the words leaving her lips before she'd fully thought them through.

"What?"

"Kiss me better," she said again, more confident now, stroking his face and watching the realisation hit him.

She wasn't trembling anymore, and the realisation was inspiring. She was stood in front of him half dressed with his hand on her thigh – but she _wasn't_ trembling.

He leant closer, pressing a kiss to her stomach and hearing her intake of breath. He littered kisses above the hemline of her underwear, across to her hip bone that was protruding a little too worryingly for him, then down the top of her leg.

She let out a little gasp at his attention, and when he looked up to check that she was okay he saw a need in her eyes he knew would be reflected in his own.

He stood up then, kissing her properly and feeling her melt into him, gripping his shirt and running her hands to the belt of his jeans. She tugged him impossibly closer, loving the way his mouth moved against hers, at ease with the way his hands roamed across her skin for the first time since her ordeal. She had nothing to be afraid of with him.

She'd thought everything that had happened recently was going to set her back, she'd _expected_ it even, but she couldn't have been more wrong. She'd actually made progress. Peter was nothing like Frank _or_ his messenger; Peter was her saviour, her best friend, and soon to be her lover; and she had no reason to ever fear his touch or intentions.

He was the _only_ man she wanted to touch her from now on.

Her revelation radiated from her, and he ran his hands up the back of her top, pulling her chest against his own and hearing her release a giggle. He pushed her dressing gown down her shoulders, and she released him just long enough to let it drop to the floor. Then her arms were quickly wrapped back around his neck, but when his hands moved to the bottom of her vest and started to tug it up, she moved her hands to stop him.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"Helping you undress for your bath?" He tried, giving her his best innocent look.

"One step at a time Peter, your words, remember?"

"So I can touch but I can't look? Isn't that the wrong way round?"

His smirk made her feel all fluttery; but he had a point, it did seem the wrong way round. She didn't know how she was supposed to explain to him how tainted she still felt, how she was nervous to let him _see_ her.

Before she could respond though, a knocking on the bathroom door reminded them just where they were – and _who_ was there with them.

"Dad?"

"Just a sec, Si" He turned round to turn the taps off, his eyes returning to Carla as she pulled her dressing gown back on and tied it shut. "What's up mate?"

"Is Carla in the bath yet? Only I need a wee."

"Ah- no. It's okay we'll come out." he checked she was okay, then reached for her hand. "You're gonna be okay, you know?"

"I know."

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	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Hello! Sorry for the delay in updating, I hope I still have some of my readers! I'm hoping to get this story completed before Carla & Peter's return =)

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As Simon headed into the bathroom, Carla's phone started to ring.

"Hello?... Yes, speaking…" She perched on the arm of her sofa, her eyebrows raising suddenly. She glanced at Peter as she continued to listen to the caller, and he moved closer to her.

"Who is it?" he whispered.

She held her hand up, gesturing for him to stay quiet till the call had ended.

"Uh- yeah, yeah I can be there in the hour… okay, thank you… bye," She hung up and looked back up at Peter.

"What is it?"

She laughed anxiously, unable to believe what she'd been told.

"Frank's been arrested. The guy that he sent to threaten me turned himself in, he's been giving a statement. They want me to go confirm it's definitely him but, it's really just a formality."

"You're kidding,"

"No." she grinned.

"That's great news!" He grinned back, tugging her to him and hugging her. "There's no way they'll let him out now, he broke his bail conditions. Add his visit to you in hospital… he won't have a leg to stand on."

"I hope not."

He pulled back, cupping her face and seeing her disbelief.

"Definitely not. I told you it'd be alright. He's not as clever as he thinks is he." He pecked her on the lips, running his hands down her arms in a soothing gesture.

Simon came back out of the bathroom then, just as there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it."

"Uh, Si-"

He stretched up to reach the lock, tugging the door open and looking at Greg curiously.

"Hi."

"Oh... hello. Is Carla-"

"Yeah she's here. Are you her boyfriend?"

Greg shook his head.

"No. No, I'm just her neighbour."

"Come back over here Si, let him in."

Simon headed back over to the couch, and resumed what he liked to think was now _his_ spot in front of the television.

"Sorry," Greg apologised. "I just had a call about…" he glanced towards Simon, wary of little ears. "About your _visitor_ on Sunday."

"Yeah, me too."

"I thought you might want a lift down there, but obviously..." he eyed her attire. "You're not ready to go, so…"

"Yeah, thanks but, Peter's gonna take me."

"Of course." He nodded. "Well, I'm gonna head down now, so I might see you there later?"

"Yeah, maybe."

He let himself out, and Carla headed towards the bathroom.

"I'm gonna get sorted."

"Okay." Peter watched the door shut behind her, then moved over to the couch to sit down next to his son. "So, you fancy a little trip to the police station with us?"

"I'd rather stay here."

"On your own?"

"I am _eight_, dad."

"It won't take long, then you can come back here and watch some more of Carla's _massive tele_, hm?"

Simon sighed dramatically.

"Why do we have to go to the police station?"

"Never you mind. We're just doing a favour for Carla."

"You may as well have left me with Leanne."

"Hey- she had to go do something didn't she, so you're stuck with me for now." He nudged him playfully, earning a small grin.

"Well, can we have pizza after?"

"You think your stomach's up for that?"

"Yeah,"

"You think you'll be up for school tomorrow as well?"

"Maybe."

"Hmm, you make a lot of demands for someone who's supposed to be feeling poorly."

"I still have to eat."

Peter chuckled.

"Okay. Pizza."

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Carla looked through the window, gripping Peter's hand a little tighter and taking a few calming breaths.

"Yeah, that's him."

"Thank you, Mrs Connor."

"Do you know why he confessed? I mean, if he's already got a criminal record… if this can land him back in jail… _why_ would he confess?"

"Seems Mr Tanner didn't get paid for passing on that _message_ to you." He explained. "Whether it's his conscience or vengeance, he's offered to fully co-operate with the police; and he's agreed to testify against Mr Foster at the trial. He's obviously hoping that'll earn him a reduced sentence."

"Will Frank be allowed out of prison again before the trial?" Peter asked.

"If you'll bear with me, I'll get the detective to come and speak to you both shortly. She's just finishing up with Mr Denver."

"Thank you."

.

Simon sighed. He'd been playing a game on his phone, and the battery had just died. Now what was he supposed to do? Some visit to the police station this was. He was having to wait in the car, and now he didn't even have his racing game to keep him entertained. He unclipped his seat belt, kneeling up on the seat and looking out of the back window; but there was still no sign of his dad and Carla.

He turned around and sat back down, eyeing the rows of shops and suddenly spotting Leanne.

"Leanne?"

He wondered if he could get her attention. He shuffled across the seat, winding the window down and about to shout across to her when he saw _Nick_ coming out of the café behind her.

He frowned. What was the guy from the Bistro doing with her? And what was so important she had to meet him in town, instead of staying with him and his dad for the day?

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"I can't believe we're even talking about this." Leanne worried.

"Look, I know you've got a lot to think about, but I meant everything I said."

"And what about Eva?"

"Eva's... _great_... but she's not _you_. It's not going anywhere." He moved in front of her so she'd stop walking. "I never stopped hoping we might have a chance. Even when you went ahead and married Peter..."

"I was trying to do the right thing-"

"For who? For Simon? Maybe. But not for _you_."

She softened. She'd reached a similar conclusion herself, only a few days ago.

"You'd have to finish it with Eva. I can't even consider this whilst you're still together."

"I'll finish it. I'll do it now. I don't want to waste any more time, Lea."

She felt butterflies in her stomach, and when he leant in to kiss her she knew her answer already. She wanted to try again with him.

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Simon was so confused, and angry. He wound the window back up, and continued to wait for his dad and Carla.

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	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews =)

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"He went to the hospital, as well. Just walked in, bold as brass. You know, I'm appalled he managed to get anywhere near her-"

"Peter," Carla reached for his hand, quietly imploring him to calm down. He gave her an apologetic look, and then turned back to the detective.

"He said he was her _brother_. There must be some sort of security footage or- or the nurse that was working, that he spoke to… she'd probably be able to identify him?"

"We'll look into it Mr Barlow, but for the mean time, take it from me, Mr Foster isn't going anywhere till the trial."

"He definitely won't be released?"

"He definitely won't be released."

Carla felt relief wash over her, but it quickly vanished as another thought occurred to her.

"What if he calls someone? He'll get a call, right? He didn't just threaten _me_, he threatened _Peter_,"

"He'll be able to speak to his solicitor, but all the calls are monitored. You've no reason to worry Mrs Connor. The best thing you can do now is go home, get some rest, and prepare for the trial. We'll be in touch."

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Peter opened the door for Carla to get in, then shut it behind her and walked around the front of the car to get in the drivers side.

"Right then, I believe a certain someone's been looking forward to pizza?"

"Mm."

"Sorry we were a while mate,"

"I'm not bothered."

Carla and Peter exchanged a concerned look, and he turned all the way around to see Simon sat with a very sulky expression on his face.

"What's up with you, misery-guts?"

"Nothing. Can we just go?"

"Si?"

"I'm fine." He insisted, his tone still moody despite the fake smile he'd plastered across his face.

"Okay, okay. Put your seatbelt on."

Simon clicked his seatbelt back on, staring out of the window as the car started to move.

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He was quiet all the way through the meal, not even excited by the prospect of a dessert, and dragging his feet as they made their way back outside to the car. Peter watched him get in the back, his head bowed low as he refused to make eye contact with him.

"What's wrong, mate?"

Simon sighed.

"Nothing. Can we stay at Carla's tonight?"

"Um-"

"It's okay with me." Carla offered.

"Well then, yeah, we can stay at Carla's. We'll have to pop home to get some things though."

"Fine."

.

As they turned onto Coronation Street, Peter noticed Eva and Nick outside the Bistro, and they seemed to be having an argument.

"Wonder what's going on there?"

Carla shrugged.

He parked up outside the flat, and turned the engine off.

"Come on then, mister. Come help me get your stuff ready."

"Can I stay in the car instead? Carla will be with me."

Carla nodded to Peter that it was okay.

"Okay, well, I won't be long."

He got out and unlocked the flat door, heading upstairs and leaving Carla alone with Simon in the car.

"So... did you enjoy your pizza, Simon?"

"Yeah."

Carla fidgeted. She didn't really know how to make conversation with him. She supposed that was the good thing about babies and toddlers, you didn't really have to say much to them. Little Liam was easy, but an eight year old?

She bit her lip, glancing up at him in the mirror.

_He's a child, he can't be that hard to talk to. Get a grip._

"I bet you're looking forwards to Christmas?"

She closed her eyes as she mentally berated herself. What sort of a question was _that_? Leanne and Peter had just split up, he was probably _dreading_ a Christmas without _Saint Leanne_ there.

"I dunno."

She cleared her throat, looking at him again and noticing he'd started playing catch with his phone, seemingly bored. Maybe that could be a conversation topic.

"That's a nice phone you've got."

Simon shrugged.

"The battery dies all the time."

"You can borrow mine if you like? I've got some games on it."

He stopped throwing his phone up and down and looked up at her with interest.

"What sort of games?"

"Um, I don't really play them much but I've got pool, spider solitaire, and um… teeter, that looks fun. There's other games on it too."

"What's _teeter_?"

She unclipped her seatbelt and found the game on her phone, seeing him lean forward to try and see what she was doing.

"Look, you have to get the ball around the maze without letting it drop down the holes… oh- well, I'm not very good at it." she laughed nervously as the ball went straight into the first hole.

"You're rubbish!" Simon teased, reaching for the phone and sitting back in his seat.

She smiled. She didn't suppose she should be smiling at being called rubbish, but for some reason she didn't mind. She'd tried to connect with him and hadn't made an absolute mess of it.

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	19. Chapter 19

A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews! Much appreciated =)

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"You can sleep up here," Carla offered, leading Simon upstairs to the spare bedroom. Peter set Simon's bag down on the end of the bed, watching him walk around the room and start opening the drawers.

"Don't be nosy, Simon."

He refused to even acknowledge Peter had spoken, instead looking back up at Carla where she was stood in the doorway.

"Can this be _my_ room then? I mean, when I visit? It's way bigger than the one I have at home."

"Yeah, this can be your room." She smiled.

"Can we paint it a different colour? White's boring."

"Hey, Si, don't be so cheeky," Peter warned.

He huffed.

"Sorry, Carla."

"It's alright. If you're going to be staying here often, I'm sure we can paint it a colour you like."

"Cool." He beamed, shooting his dad a defiant look.

"We're gonna go back downstairs, come down when you're unpacked."

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Once they were downstairs and out of ear shot, Peter reached for Carla's wrist, gently tugging her round to face him.

"You don't have to give into him, you know."

"I know but… I don't mind. It's only a bit of paint and I- I kind of feel responsible."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Leanne… splitting up… Simon's upset, and that's _my_ fault. So if it'll cheer him up to-"

"Hey, no," he interrupted. "With or without you in the equation, me and Leanne were over. You've _nothing_ to feel guilty about."

"Easier said then done."

"I mean it, love. He'll take full advantage of you otherwise. Before we know it he'll have rearranged your whole apartment.

She laughed.

"Okay."

"And you know, it's _me_ he seems to be in a mood with right now, not you."

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When a few hours had passed and Simon still hadn't shown his face, Carla could tell Peter was worrying about it.

"Maybe you should go have a chat with him? I need to bring you some pillows and stuff through anyway for tonight."

Peter groaned.

"I'd much rather be in bed with you, then in here."

"I know, but what if he came down in the night? You'd have to explain and… it's too soon, isn't it?"

He sighed.

"You're probably right."

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He knocked on the door and Simon glanced up at him, but didn't say anything. He was sat on his bed drawing, his phone plugged in and on charge and his clothes and school stuff dumped on top of the nearby drawers.

"Can I come in?"

"I'm busy."

He went in anyway, sitting down beside him and looking at his picture.

"What you drawing?"

"Nothing."

He was still trying to make sense of what he'd seen, and why his dad hadn't just told him the truth about Leanne and Nick.

"Are you missing Leanne? Is that it?"

He looked up at him then, with an angry look in his eyes.

"I _hate_ Leanne."

Peter screwed his face up in confusion.

"You don't mean that,"

"Yes I do. She could have stayed with us today but she doesn't care. She ruined everything."

"She _does_ care about you Simon, she cares very much. She was just busy, but I'm sure we could go see her tomorrow. How about she collects you from school?"

"I don't want her to."

"Has something happened?"

His crayon stilled over the paper for a moment.

"No."

"If I've upset you mate, then I want you to tell me, so I can put it right?"

He stayed quiet for a moment, seeming to think it over. Then he got up from the bed.

"I'm gonna show Carla my picture."

"Si-" He got up to follow him, seeing him bound down the stairs. "Don't run on the stairs-"

Carla turned round as Simon reached the bottom, putting the spare pillows on one end of the sofa and seeing him shuffling towards her.

"Do you like my picture?"

"Erm," She eyed the picture, not entirely sure who it was supposed to be, maybe a character from a kids show? "It's… very colourful."

Peter reached the bottom of the stairs behind him, watching their exchange. He couldn't help but find Carla's awkwardness around children kind of cute.

"It's a superhero."

"Of course." She smiled widely. "Well, what are his special powers?"

"He can tell when people are lying." He said casually. "The T's for truth, see?" He explained, pointing to the middle of the drawing.

She chuckled.

"That'd be a very useful power to have."

She didn't realise she'd inadvertently made more progress about what was upsetting him in one minute, then Peter had managed to make all day.

But Peter didn't miss it.

"Can we put it on your fridge?"

"Uh, I don't have any magnets, but we could stick it up on one of the cupboards."

He moved into her kitchen area to decide which cupboard he wanted it displayed on, and Carla followed tentatively.


End file.
